


i want it, i got it

by wolfsiyeon



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Blindfolds, Established Relationship, F/F, Inspired by Jiubin's special stage with the blindfolds, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plus Yoohyeon's 7 Rings outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsiyeon/pseuds/wolfsiyeon
Summary: Yoobin has quite a few feelings about Yoohyeon's outfit from the performance of 7 Rings.





	i want it, i got it

**Author's Note:**

> They really outdid themselves with these special stages, so here's some shameless 2yoo smut because I love them and I love lowkey possessive Yoobin.

Yoobin ties the blindfold off carefully. 

The knot is positioned off center and slightly behind Yoohyeon’s ear so it doesn’t dig into the back of her head when it inevitably presses into the pillows. The deep red fabric contrasts with the soft pink of Yoohyeon’s lips, and Yoobin thinks that she looks absolutely enchanting. 

“Can you see?” she asks.

Yoohyeon squirms around a little, tilting her head almost comically. “Um, a little bit of light is getting in, and if I look so far down my eyes feel like they’re gonna pop out, I can see a tiny bit.”

Yoobin gently pulls the fabric down, a little further over the bridge of Yoohyeon’s nose. “Better?”

“Better,” Yoohyeon replies, and her lips turn into a slightly goofy smile.

It’s amazing to Yoobin that the vocalist can look so fucking adorable, even in times like this.

She’s in her outfit from the 7 Rings performance, the jacket pooling around her bare shoulders, the top riding up until the fabric bunches up under her breasts. The shorts hug her perfect hips and rest neatly across her perfect tummy and Yoobin honestly feels a little dizzy just looking at her. It’s so easy to be confident on stage, but Yoohyeon can make her flustered so easily, and right now she’s just glad that the blindfold shields her, since there’s a definitive blush climbing up her neck and along her jaw. It also hides the fact that her own outfit is nothing special, just a pair of boxers and a button-up that falls off her frame because it’s from the men’s section.

She gathers Yoohyeon’s wrists in her hands, and the other wiggles her fingers playfully, “Aww, are you trying to hold my hands?”

“Nope.” Yoobin replies, pinning Yoohyeon’s wrists to the mattress above her head.

The pink lips turn into a pout, “But I want to hold your hands.”

Yoohyeon is procrastinating, and they both know it. She squirms, trying to grab Yoobin’s hands, and Yoobin does play along with the game for a moment, because she likes the way it feels when Yoohyeon momentarily wins and her fingers slot through Yoobin’s own for a few seconds. Then she takes the second blindfold and uses it for a different purpose, carefully tying Yoohyeon’s wrists together. She watched several YouTube videos, so it only takes a moment, and she tugs the knot tight enough to keep Yoohyeon contained but loose enough she can slip a finger under it, enough that Yoohyeon’s hands won’t turn all purple.

Officially blindfolded and bound, Yoohyeon is out of ways to put this off, and Yoobin can sense her nervousness. So she reaches up and gently strokes a thumb over Yoohyeon’s cheek. The vocalist leans into the touch, sighing out softly. Yoobin’s voice is low but gentle, “Are you okay with all of this?”

“It just feels weird to not be able to see you,” Yoohyeon admits, sheepishly.

They’ve done as much experimenting as they really can in a cramped dorm and constant schedules. Yoobin has tied Yoohyeon’s hands plenty of times. The blindfold, however is new, and she knows how much Yoohyeon likes to experience their time together through all of her senses. So she checks in, more determinedly this time, “Your colors. Which one are you at right now?”

“Green,” Yoohyeon answers, and that contains no hesitation.

Yellow means that Yoobin needs to try something else or slow down. Red means she needs to stop  _ immediately _ . Green means Yoohyeon is good to go, even if she’s nervous. 

So Yoobin settles fully next to her on the bed, planting a hand next to her head. Then she leans in and finds her mouth in a kiss. Yoohyeon makes a slightly startled sound against her lips, obviously surprised by the contact since she couldn’t see it coming. But she relaxes into it, her lips parting against Yoobin’s, ridiculously soft and tasting of bubblegum.

One kiss turns into two, then ten. When Yoobin finally pulls away a few moments later, her own lips feel a little raw, tasting of Yoohyeon’s mouth. Yoohyeon’s lips are swollen, all of her lip gloss rubbed off except for the faintest trace of a wet shimmer. 

With the top half of Yoohyeon’s face covered, it’s so easy to focus on her lips, the slight part of them and the faint hint of her teeth hidden behind them. 

And then from her lips, Yoobin’s eyes trail down the long, statuesque curve of her throat, studying the way her muscles flex slightly when she swallows. From there it’s her bare shoulders and the curves of her collarbones, and then her bare, muscular stomach still looking soft despite the outlines of her abs. God, this fucking  _ outfit _ .

It really makes Yoobin feel something, something  _ aggressive _ .

That’s probably how she ends up on top of Yoohyeon, knees on either side of her thighs. One hand finds her hair, fingers tangling into sable strands and tugging after she knots them around the bones of her knuckles. The other finds her side, the bare skin warm under her fingers that press in and squeeze, a contrast to the cool metal of her rings. Tugging on Yoohyeon’s hair bares her throat and Yoobin buries her face against it, drinking in the throbbing beat of Yoohyeon’s pulse as she traces all the muscle and soft skin with kisses, her mouth open and heated. 

Yoohyeon gasps softly with each press of Yoobin’s lips, releases a tiny whimper when Yoobin finds the spot just below her jaw and sinks in her teeth, sucking the skin there into her mouth hard enough to bruise. “Don’t leave marks!” Yoohyeon whines, but there’s no actual power behind it, and she tilts her head even further, baring more skin for Yoobin’s teeth.

“We have some time off,” Yoobin reminds her, and then she trails downwards, to the exposed skin of Yoohyeon’s shoulders. The others always compliment Yoobin on hers, but she’s always been fond of Yoohyeon’s. Thin but strong, delicate but powerful. And her collarbones curve like they’re just waiting, reaching out for Yoobin’s mouth.

She kisses along the left one, nipping at the curved indentation just above the bone. “Who gave you permission to wear this outfit?”

“Umm,” Yoohyeon replies, and Yoobin can hear the breathlessness in her voice, “The company?”

Yoobin nips at the place where Yoohyeon’s shoulder meets her neck. The vocalist gasps, and Yoobin decides she likes the sound and does it again, biting down harder. It leaves another bruise, one she can feel purple under her mouth. “Well they shouldn’t have. Everyone was staring.  _ Everyone _ wanted you.”

“Maybe that’s what I wanted,” Yoohyeon retorts, and it’s simultaneously strong and shaky. Yoobin looks up at her and briefly misses being able to see her eyes, knowing that they’d be blown peat-dark at this point.

Yoohyeon’s cheeks are flushed, a pink color that bleeds under the blindfold. It pools down her neck and makes the bruising marks on her throat stand out even more. Yoobin squeezes Yoohyeon’s side more firmly, nails curling in against her back, biting at her spine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Yoohyeon replies, nodding rapidly to confirm her point.

It’s so fucking cute that Yoobin almost loses the direction of the conversation.

_ Almost _ .

Instead, she just tsks, the sound a little disappointed. “So you wanted them all to watch you, think about doing dirty things to you. Is that it?” Her voice is low, a register she feels vibrate in her own chest. Yoohyeon squirms underneath her and Yoobin pins her in place by tightening her knees against Yoohyeon’s thighs.

“Yeah. I wanted them all to want me.” Yoohyeon confirms. Yoobin shifts her hands to push up the fabric of Yoohyeon’s shirt. It scrapes against her bra, but soon enough Yoobin is cupping her breasts through the fabric. 

She can feel Yoohyeon’s chest rising and falling under her palms, the pace stuttering when Yoobin splays her fingers and applies a pressure firm enough for the older girl to feel it through the thin padding of the cups. “Guess what?”

Yoohyeon’s voice is drawn thin, “What?”

There’s a pause, and then Yoobin drags her short nails down Yoohyeon’s abdomen. The muscles flex in protest of the thick pink scratches that Yoobin leaves in her wake. They won’t last long, but she knows they’ll sting in the moment, and Yoohyeon gasps. The hands don’t stop until they’re catching the shiny, slippery material of Yoohyeon’s shorts and tugging down, “They can think about doing those things to you as much as they want, but only  _ I  _ can actually touch you.”

Yoobin lifts off of her enough to pull the shorts down and away. She tugs at the waistband of Yoohyeon’s underwear, lets it snap back against her with a sharp sound. The vocalist cries out softly, and Yoobin smiles down at her. Even though Yoohyeon can’t see it. “Isn’t that right, babygirl?”

Yoohyeon’s bottom lip quivers. “Yes, oppa.”

“Good girl,” Yoobin rewards, chest swelling at the name. She pretends it doesn’t affect her.

Instead she focuses on newly revealed fabric. Yoohyeon’s underwear is lacy and black, not really hiding all that much. The center is darker, and Yoobin runs a delicate finger along the slick there, feeling the way the material is tacky with it. “No one else could make you this wet, could they? You were trying so hard to impress them, but the only person who can turn you into this much of a mess is me.”

“Only you, oppa,” Yoohyeon says, agreeably. Her voice is high and lacking in oxygen, and she bobs her head so rapidly that Yoobin is worried she might manage to make the blindfold slip off.

She hums, taking her time to just draw little circles against Yoohyeon through the lace. When she hits certain points, narrow hips lift off the bed, pressing into her touch, and Yoohyeon releases tiny little whimpers. It’s so soft and Yoobin is possessive of these private moments, when Yoohyeon has melted like snow in her warm hands, entirely hers and open and wanton. Her voice is soft, still that same low, rough timbre. “Should I remind you who you belong to?”

Yoohyeon nods again, whining a little higher, “Please, oppa. Please.”

Yoobin would usually tease longer, but Yoohyeon’s lips are parted and trembling and it’s so hard not to stare with the blindfold blocking out the rest of her face. And Yoobin just...really wants to see what they look like when Yoohyeon is moaning as she cums.

So she gives in to her own selfish desires. Her fingers hook into the underwear and she lifts up again, pulling them away from Yoohyeon’s sticky folds and down her legs, tossing them in the vague direction of her shorts. Yoobin’s thumb strokes over the neatly-trimmed patch of curls, and Yoohyeon’s hips jerk, a clicking breath catching in her throat. “Oppa…” She breathes, but no other words follow.

Yoobin debates for a moment what she wants to do, but Yoohyeon’s cunt is shiny with her slick and Yoobin is  _ weak _ , so the decision comes easy. There’s not much room on the bed, so she pulls away completely. Since Yoohyeon can’t see, she seems incredibly confused at the loss, struggling slightly against her bonds and the blindfold, trying to feel for where Yoobin has gone.

Then Yoobin is answering her silent confusion with a silent explanation. She settles on her knees at the foot of the bed and grips Yoohyeon’s narrow waist, right above that delicious flare of her hips. She pulls her in so her ass is even with the edge of the mattress, tucking Yoohyeon’s legs over her shoulders. 

“Oh.” Yoohyeon gasps, a little startled.

The tiny gasp turns into a longer, higher moan when Yoobin leans in, parting Yoohyeon’s folds with her fingers and dragging her tongue against her clit. And once again, she would usually tease, but she’s proving a point, cementing a reminder in Yoohyeon’s head of who she belongs to, no matter what she’s doing up on that stage.

The little bundle of nerves is easy to roll under her tongue, toying with it back and forth. Yoohyeon’s hips keep trying to rise to meet her, to find more friction, so Yoobin holds them down with both hands, fingers sinking into soft skin. Yoohyeon tastes saccharine sweet, like always, every bit some sort of ambrosia that Yoobin doesn’t actually deserve. 

But she’ll show her gratitude for being allowed to taste her anyway in the best way she can. A few more swipes of her tongue over Yoohyeon’s clit, and she can already feel that it’s growing more swollen under her touch. Yoohyeon’s whimpers are more frequent, tumbling out with every couple of exhales, breaths and sounds that escape in time with the way Yoobin gently shakes her head back and forth.

When she finally sucks the sensitive nub into her mouth, Yoohyeon’s quiet whines pitch up into a sharp, keening cry. Her hips jerk under Yoobin’s hands, and when she looks up, she can see her wrists lift from the bed, straining against the makeshift bonds. In any other situation, her hands would be knotted into Yoobin’s hair or gripping at her own breasts, but Yoohyeon is currently denied anything except bruising her own wrists against the fabric.

“Oppa,” Yoohyeon gasps, panting for breath. “Please.”

Yoobin pulls Yoohyeon’s clit between her lips once more, tongue swiping over it once she has it fully captured in her mouth. “Hm?” she hums, both in acknowledgement of the plea and because the vibration draws another sharp, desperate sound from Yoohyeon’s mouth.

“Don’t stop. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.” Yoohyeon begs.

Yoobin has no intention to. She continues to suck firmly, tongue swiping back and forth as she does. Yoohyeon just continues to grow wetter under her mouth, against her chin. Her nose is settled into the soft patch of short curls and the heady scent of her fills Yoobin’s entire head, like a drug. Her fingers flex against the perfect curves of Yoohyeon’s hips.

Then, as soon as Yoohyeon’s thighs start to grow taut around her head, trembling and pressing against Yoobin’s shoulders, she changes techniques again. The flat of her tongue strokes against Yoohyeon, broad and firm and quick, and that’s all it takes for the taller girl to turn into an absolute mess above her.

Yoobin watches, watches the way Yoohyeon sinks her teeth into her plush bottom lip to bite back the loud cry that escapes her. She watches the flush of her face and the bead of sweat that traces down the curve of her neck, along her bare goddamn shoulders. She studies the obsidian strands of hair that cling to Yoohyeon’s throat and cheeks, and the thick stripe of fabric around her eyes.

It’s one of the most attractive things she’s ever seen, and Yoobin doesn’t let up as Yoohyeon collapses in a mess of shudders against her and around her, her thighs clamping so hard around Yoobin’s skull that she thinks she sees an entire galaxy across her vision.

After a long moment, she does pull her mouth away, needing oxygen of her own. Yoohyeon’s thighs fall from her shoulders, her body relaxing in a mystified slump, occasionally still shaking with aftershocks. Yoobin still studies her face, grateful for the blindfold and the element of surprise it gives her, because Yoohyeon’s relaxed muscles make it so much easier to find her entrance and push three fingers inside.

“Fuck!” Yoohyeon cries out, her back arching, wrists yanking at the bonds again. Yoobin can no longer see her face when Yoohyeon’s head tips back, so she manages to awkwardly maneuver them both up further on the bed so she can settle beside Yoohyeon properly. 

Then she actually starts to move her fingers. Yoohyeon is absolutely soaked, throbbing around Yoobin’s touch. And she’s never been more grateful for her long fingers, because she can fill her up completely, burying her touch in deep then dragging the pads of her fingers along the sopping inner walls with each push and pull. Yoohyeon writhes beneath her, her hips no longer pinned down, arching desperately into the thrusts of Yoobin’s hand.

Her head still tilts back, chin jutting up towards the ceiling. It reveals the entire curve of her throat, her bare shoulders sticky with sweat. The way her teeth bite her bottom lip raw to muffle the worst of her desperate moaning is absolutely sinful, and Yoobin watches with inherent fascination, almost religious in nature.

One of her favorite things and least favorite things about Yoohyeon in bed is how sensitive she gets after the first orgasm. It means Yoohyeon can’t go very long, but it also means that after the first time, it’s so easy to make her cum. Yoobin doesn’t even have to do more than brush her knuckle against Yoohyeon’s clit a few times, pairing it with the deep pressure of her thrusts and her fingers sinking into that spongey ridge inside of her. Then the vocalist is collapsing again, her cry simultaneously sharper and more breathless.

Yoobin’s free hand strokes over her slick stomach, the quivering muscles there twitching with each desperate shudder. “One more, babygirl. I know you can give me one more.”

“Can I see you?” Yoohyeon gasps, and Yoobin is startled she can speak that much at all.

But Yoohyeon has been so well behaved, so she gives it to her. 

Yoobin tugs at the knot of the blindfold, letting it fall away after a moment of awkward one-handed jumbling. Their eyes meet, and Yoobin doesn’t pull her gaze away as her fingers start to move again. Yoohyeon’s inner walls are so swollen around her fingers from the overstimulation, but Yoobin doesn’t have the audacity to feel bad for it. Every time a moment of guilt fills her, she thinks of Yoohyeon on that stage in this outfit and the wave of possessiveness fills her up again like a thunderstorm.

The deep, firm thrusts bodily rock Yoohyeon against the bed. Her thumb finds Yoohyeon’s clit, still hard to the touch with need, and she gasps, her dark eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. But then she meets Yoobin’s gaze again, and Yoobin waits until her muscles all bunch up and all of that slickness starts to pool against her fingers and in her palm, pressed out against her by the aching heat she’s buried so deep inside of. 

Then she murmurs, “You’re such a good girl.  _ My  _ good girl.”

And Yoohyeon breaks one final time, with a desperate sob of Yoobin’s name and an arch of her spine that would seem painful if not for her dancer’s physique.

This time, Yoobin brings her down gently, and when Yoohyeon’s body collapses into the bed, she pulls out and away, being mindful of the fact the older girl is probably sensitive now to the point of pain. She goes to wipe her fingers on the sheets, but Yoohyeon murmurs a breathless, “Oppa, can I?” and opens her mouth.

Yoobin slides her fingers between the swollen pink lips, and Yoohyeon cleans them off almost sleepily, her dark eyes fluttering. Once she’s done, Yoobin pulls her fingers from Yoohyeon’s mouth, and then reaches up to untie her wrists. Her hands massage at the skin there, “You might bruise a little.”

“I really wanted to touch you,” Yoohyeon admits, sheepishly. 

Yoobin smiles at her, “Next time.”

Yoohyeon looks as though she wants to protest, because she really likes getting Yoobin off. But she also looks exhausted, and she has to move carefully because of the ache in her shoulders and between her thighs, so she seems to accept it. Yoobin gently helps her out of the outfit, and Yoohyeon hums, “That’s probably going to smell like sex forever.”

“Then next time you wear it, you’ll remember this, won’t you?” Yoobin says, but the firm, low tone is mostly gone, replaced by a crooked smile.

Yoohyeon grins at her, goofy and obviously just a bit delirious, “Of course.” And then, “I love you, Yoobin.”

Yoobin gently strokes the hair away from Yoohyeon’s forehead, then draws her fingers along her cheekbone, “I love you, too.”

That night, when they fall asleep,  _ maybe _ Yoobin’s arm is just a  _ little _ tighter around Yoohyeon’s waist than normal, but if it’s a problem, Yoohyeon doesn’t even begin to complain.


End file.
